


The Turning of the Tide

by Luthien



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-14
Updated: 2011-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve persuades Danno to go to the beach with him. Follow-up to 'His Master's Voice'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Turning of the Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariadnes_string](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadnes_string/gifts).



> Written for ariadne's string for the Five Acts Meme. Prompt was "people swimming together". Follow-up to 'His Master's Voice'.

The ripples from the attempted kidnapping spread out and keep the team busy for days. Kidnapper A leads them to Drug Smuggler B leads them to Swimming Instructor C, who turns out to be… just a swimming instructor. That gets pretty embarrassing for a few minutes, right up until Swimming Instructor C mentions – well, it’s more like a threat, really – her father, High Profile Businessman D. And then all the pieces fall into place.

It’s Friday afternoon by the time everything settles down, and all of a sudden Steve finds himself in that rarest of situations in the Five-0 office: one where there’s absolutely nothing urgent going on. Steve sits back in his office chair – not something he does very often – and considers the latest administrative paperwork in his inbox – something he does even less often. Most of it’s there courtesy of Danno. No surprise there. Steve skims through it: case reports, budget, resources, office supplies. The same old, same old. He’s about to let the rest of the team know they should expect beer to feature heavily in their immediate futures when a requisition form catches his eye. Steve looks at it more closely, raising his eyebrows slowly as he reads through the details. And then he gets up, and wanders across the office to where Danno’s sitting at his desk.

“What happened to your phone?” Steve asks, leaning back against the edge of Danno’s desk.

“What?” Danno says, looking up, frowning, from whatever it is he’s working on – probably more damned paperwork.

“You requisitioned a phone.”

“Yes, I requ-“ Danno’s eyes go wide. “You looked at the paperwork? Seriously?”

Steve ignores that. “So what happened to your old phone?”

“It doesn’t work any more. That’s why I came up with the groundbreaking idea of getting a new one.”

Steve just looks at him, hard, and lets the question continue to play on his face.

Danno’s jaw sets in a hard line, and he stares back at Steve, but after a moment he answers, “Fine! It got wet! Which, I might add, you already know from the requisition form.”

Steve gets up, wanders around the desk, and looks down at Danno from his full height, letting the hint of a smile touch the corners of his mouth. “It got wet? You wouldn’t have been somewhere near the beach at the time, would you, Danno? Maybe last Saturday?”

Danno doesn’t stand up. Instead he stands – or sits – his ground. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I was.”

“You and Chin.”

“No, me and Gracie, of course! Why would I go to the beach with Chin? I didn’t see him until later, when the whole attempted abduction thing blew up.”

Something tight and hard deep inside Steve uncoils at that. It feels something like relief, but he doesn’t examine it closely, and of course he doesn’t let it show. “Gracie’s been taking those swimming lessons?” he asks.

“Yeah, she’s getting really good. But, uh…” Danno looks down. “She ducked under a wave that broke right in front of her, and I thought she was in trouble, so I went in after her. In my clothes. With the phone still in my pocket.”

“But Grace was okay,” Steve says, though he already knows the answer to that one. There’s no way Danno would ever have forgiven himself if Grace hadn’t been okay.

“Yeah, she was fine. Apparently, diving beneath the turbulence to the calmer waters beneath is the best thing to do when one of those is coming straight at you.”

“Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere,” Steve says with a straight face. “Just for interest’s sake, what were you planning to do once you got into the water? The currents around here can be dangerous for anyone who can’t swim.”

“Who can’t swim? I can swim!” Danno says indignantly, and now he does get to his feet. “Just because I don’t like the beach doesn’t mean I can’t swim. Or haven’t you heard of this thing called a swimming pool?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of swimming pools. I’m just having a hard time imagining you in one.”

“I’ll have you know I spent some time at the pool when I was a teenager. I even learned a stroke. What was it? The doggy paddle. Something like that, anyway.”

Steve just looks at him. “Prove it,” he says.

“What?” Danno says.

“Prove you can swim.”

“I can swim. I don’t need to prove it.”

“So, what? You’re chicken?”

“And you’re what, thirty-five going on fifteen now?” Danno shoots back. But there’s a tiny edge to his voice, one that Steve’s learned to listen for.

Steve just stands there and smiles. He knows the scent of approaching victory when he smells it.

***

  
“I hope you realise this is going to be the shortest swim ever,” Danno says a couple of weeks later, as he stands on the beach and eyes the waves crashing fiercely against the sand. It’s still fairly early, and there’s nobody else on this part of the beach yet, apart from a couple of surfers in the near distance.

“It’ll be fine once we get out past these dumpers,” Steve assures him, stripping off his shirt and tossing it on top of his towel. It’s taken Steve every day of those two weeks to gradually persuade – _not_ nag, whatever some people might try to call it – Danno into going into the water with him and there’s absolutely no way he’s going to let Danno back out of it now.

“Dumpers,” Danno says dubiously. “And that’s a term that’s supposed to inspire me with confidence? I’m not planning on diving under those, I don’t care what you say.”

“Yeah, not a good idea to dive under a dumper,” Steve says easily. He looks Danno up and down. “You planning on going in fully clothed again?”

“I considered it,” Danno says, “but actually, no.” And then he pulls off his shirt.

Danno’s skin is paler on his upper arms and across his chest and all the way down to unexpectedly well-defined abs – all those places where it’s usually covered by his shirt. Steve remembers back in high school, when he and his friends used to snigger at people with multi-shade mainland suntans like that.

Steve’s not laughing now. He lets himself look, just a fraction too long. He knows at exactly what point it becomes a fraction too long because suddenly Danno’s looking right back at him.

That look goes on even more than a fraction too long, but Danno’s the one who breaks it. He looks back out at the water. “So are we going in or not?” he asks.

“Just follow me and do what I do,” Steve tells him.

He waits for the next dumper to break against the sand, and then he wades out quickly through the water, picking out a path off to the side of where the biggest waves are forming while taking care to avoid the rip. He has to take a couple of large – large-ish for this close in – waves side-on, and he keeps a close eye on Danno then, but really that’s about the worst that the surf has to offer today. It’s not too bad at all.

Out behind where the dumpers start, Steve hits the sandbar that’s built up with the recent storms. It’s a biggie this time; no wonder the dumpers are so ferocious today. The water’s so shallow here it isn’t even reaching his knees. He looks back to see how Danno’s faring, half-expecting to see he’s retreating back toward the shore and complaining about the temperature of the water, or how very wet it is, or both.

But Danno turns out to be right behind him. He stumbles onto the sandbar, panting. And wet. His hair is sticking out in all directions. He looks like a scarecrow. A very, very wet scarecrow with pale, perfect abs that glisten in the sunlight and… Steve swallows, and thinks that now might be the perfect time to sit and let the waves wash over him for a while. He ducks down as the next wave hits, half-wishing the waters around here were colder, too.

Danno looks down at him. “You’re stopping for a break? I thought there was supposed to be swimming happening here.”

“We need to get out to the deeper water first,” Steve says, making sure to turn just slightly away as he gets to his feet again.

Once they get out past the sandbar, Steve can feel the bottom sloping gently but irrevocably downward beneath his feet. They keep going until they’ve left the shallows well behind them.

“This is deep enough,” Danno says when they’re… well, they’re not strictly right out the back of the surf yet, but they’re close enough. It’s not a bad spot. They’re not completely out of their depth, but the waves are bigger out here: they’re cresting higher than the top of Steve’s head, but easy to negotiate. Steve notes with more than a little interest how Danno bobs up and over each wave, launching himself gracefully upward just as the leading edge arrives with what seems very like a practised kick of the feet – exactly the same way Steve does it.

Steve takes a couple of lazy strokes over closer to where Danno’s lying in wait for the next wave. His foot brushes against Danno’s leg beneath the water, and Danno looks over at him sharply.

Steve’s not sure what to make of that look so he just says, “Not bad. I see you can do a little more than the dog paddle after all.”

“You call this swimming? This isn’t swimming.” And Danno takes hold of his nose and then plunges down beneath the surface.

Steve’s gripped by stupid, irrational panic. Danno may actually know something about swimming after all, but the ocean isn’t any sort of place to take unwarranted risks, even if you know exactly what you’re-

Something – a pair of hands - grabs hold of the backs of Steve’s knees, and pulls him right under. He surfaces a moment later, spluttering and swearing.

Danno’s head breaks the surface right beside him. “Underwater. Now that’s the sort of swimming you learn in a pool,” Danno says smugly.

“You took me by surprise,” Steve accuses, and he’s really not kidding, not the least because he’s pretty sure that he didn’t imagine the lingering touch of Danno’s hand against his thigh right after he pulled him under.

“What? You expect some sort of warning before a surprise attack? What kind of SEAL are you? And don’t tell me you never did that sort of thing when you were a kid, either.”

“Of course I did,” Steve says.

“And when you were older,” Danno adds.

“Maybe,” Steve admits, sending Danno a hard look. And then Steve splashes him. Bullseye! He gets him right in the face, thanks to a deadly expertise that comes not from being in the Navy, or being a SEAL, but from growing up with a little sister like Mary.

It’s Danno’s turn to swear.

“Don’t tell me you never did that sort of thing when you were a kid,” Steve says, grinning.

Instead of answering in words, Danno splashes him back, and next thing a full-on battle is going on. They meet each other strike for strike, complete with flailing arms and pounding surface kicks. Before long, they’re generating a wall of spray that’s nearly impossible to see through. And that’s when Steve decides it’s his turn to deliver a surprise underwater strike. He ducks under the water, spots Danno’s legs amidst the turbulence, and in a matter of seconds he’s covered the distance between them, and it’s payback time. Steve positions himself just right, grabs Danno’s knees and… away they go.

Steve’s head breaks the surface to the familiar tune of Danno’s voice, demanding to know what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“Winning,” Steve replies, and tightens his grip on Danno’s thighs to make sure he doesn’t slip off Steve’s shoulders until Steve decides it’s time. Of course, Danno has a different point of view about this, as he tells Steve loudly and clearly and in detail. He doesn’t cooperate much. In fact, he doesn’t cooperate at all. He grabs at Steve’s hands and tries to dislodge them, and, when that doesn’t work, he wriggles.

That almost works. It’s distracting. This much of Danno has never been pressed up against this much of Steve before. Danno’s legs are slick and wet and slippery as they move back and forth against Steve’s bare skin. His shorts are pressed hard against Steve’s neck, and while they’re not slippery, they’re even more distracting. Steve suddenly, terribly aware that a thin wet strip of fabric is the only barrier left between him and Danno’s cock. He could just turn his head, right this moment, and Danno’s cock would be right there, right in front of Steve’s mouth. Ready for Steve’s mouth.

Steve decides it’s time. He lets go of Danno’s legs and ducks back under the surface, letting Danno slip back down into the water in his wake.

When Steve resurfaces, he expects Danno to say something. But Danno doesn’t. He just looks at Steve like… like Steve’s the one who should be saying something.

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t look away, either.

Danno’s the one who does that. “So are we going to swim today?” he asks, looking back toward the shore as though it’s the most fascinating sight imaginable.

“We already are,” Steve points out as they go up and over the latest wave.

“This?” Danno says, finally turning to look at Steve again as their feet touch bottom. “This is not swimming. Swimming involves using your arms and your feet and actually propelling your body through the water.” He makes an elaborate gesture with his arms that’s clearly supposed to indicate some sort of swimming stroke.

Steve regards him for a moment. “You want to try that kind of swimming? Why not combine it with surfing?”

“Surfing? You don’t think a board might be useful for that?”

“You don’t always need a board. Just start by swimming back toward shore when I give the word – assuming that you know something more useful than the dog paddle. An overarm sort of thing-“

“The crawl. Yeah, I think I might just possibly have done that one before,” Danno says, shaking his head.

“Fine. Start with that. And then when the next wave starts rising behind you, swim as hard as you can. You want to be just short of the crest as it starts to break. Hold your hands out in front of you until you can feel yourself getting caught up in the momentum of the wave, then pull your arms back against your sides so your body’s like a bullet-

“Or a human surfboard,” Danno puts in.

“Or a human surfboard,” Steve agrees.

“And then?” Danno asks.

“And then…. Enjoy the ride,” Steve says, and starts to grin.

They swim out a little further – Steve notes with approval that Danno’s overarm stroke cuts the water cleanly, and he kicks his legs out behind him with minimal splashing – and wait for the right wave to come along. They have a couple of false starts, but third time’s the charm. They’re both swimming as hard as they can when the wave comes up behind them, takes them over, and they barely have time to clamp their arms against their sides before they’re off and hurtling through the water back toward the beach like a pair of guided – or at least semi-guided – missiles. Bodysurfing’s such a huge rush, that feeling of becoming one with the wave as exhilarating now as it was the first time he tried it more than twenty years ago. Steve can’t ever get enough of it.

Way too soon, the wave loses height and momentum and so do they. The last of the wave moves on without them. Water cascades off Danno as he hauls himself out of the surf and gets to his feet. His hair is slicked down and dripping into his eyes. He tosses it back so he can see properly and… Wet is a good look on him. A very good look.

He turns and catches Steve’s eye. Steve grins in acknowledgement, and that’s all that needs to be said before they start making their way back out to look for the next likely wave.

A couple of dozen waves later, they stagger back onto the sandbar, and tumble into the shallow water together. They half-sit, half-float and just let their bodies drift to and fro for a while as the little waves get gradually bigger and the water around them gets gradually deeper with the incoming tide.

“So are you prepared to admit that the beach maybe isn’t so bad?” Steve asks after a while.

“No, I still hate the beach,” Danno says. “I can’t stand all that sand.”

“That’s what you don’t like about the beach?” Steve asks.

“Not only that,” Danno says, in a way that tells Steve there’s a story there, and maybe he’ll hear the rest of it someday. “But maybe bodysurfing would be okay, if there was a way to do it without sand getting into places that sand should never go.”

“Places?” Steve quirks an eyebrow.

“Places,” Danno says, and Steve feels a hand clasp his thigh beneath the water. There’s no doubt about it this time, and it’s definitely not accidental. But there’s enough foam from the waves on the surface of the water that neither of them can see just where Danno’s hand is right now. Danno looks Steve square in the eyes, and the unspoken message is clear: Steve can still pretend it’s not happening if he wants.

Steve most definitely **doesn’t** want. He grabs Danno’s hand beneath the water, stops it in its tracks. Their gazes lock. Danno doesn’t try to pull away. And then, very, very slowly, Steve guides Danno’s hand down, pushes it flush against him so he can feel for himself just how much Steve doesn’t want this to stop.

“Really?” Danno says, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and arches up harder against Danno’s hand.

“That’s… gratifying.”

“Yeah?” Steve says again, so quietly that his voice can barely be heard above the rushing of the waves around them.

“Yeah,” Danno says. “Let me demonstrate just how gratified I am.”

The kiss is a little clumsy and a lot perfect and Steve feels like he’s been waiting for it for ever. There’s nothing tentative about it, but then there’s nothing much tentative about them, either. It’s like suddenly coming to anchor in a stormy sea. Danny tastes salty, like the water. Like… the wave that washes over them and forces them apart a moment later. It’s bigger than any of the others that’ve come past since they arrived on the sandbar. The tide is most definitely on the way in, and that seems like the right cue for the two of them to get out of the water. Steve loves the ocean, but it isn’t the place he’d choose for a first kiss. Or for a first anything else.

Steve grabs Danno’s wrist beneath the water and pulls him close before he has a chance to drift out of reach. The latest wave has left Danno’s hair soaking wet and plastered against his forehead. Steve reaches over and pushes the hair back out of the way, back where it’s supposed to be. His hand stays there, fingers carded through Danno’s wet hair. Danno watches silently, and then at last he brings his own hand up to match Steve’s. He cups Steve’s jaw, and draws him closer until they’re just a breath apart. Not even that.

The second kiss is even better than the first; they’ve more or less gotten the hang of moving with the water while they move against each other now.

They still forget to keep an ear out for the next wave, though.

They surface side by side this time. “Time to go back?” Danno says against Steve’s ear, voice deeper and lower that Steve’s ever heard it. Steve’s breath catches and he bites his lip. He could get used to hearing that voice.

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah. Good idea,” he says.

“Or we could just stay here awhile,” Danno suggests, and Steve feels a hand brush against him again. It doesn’t brush against his thigh this time.

“Nah, I think I’ve had enough of the water for today,” Steve says quickly, pretty sure he’s never said that before in his life. He gets to his feet before Danno has the chance to distract him again and they end up getting taken out by a passing wave for a third time.

Danno doesn’t object. He doesn’t even reply. He just smiles – and leads the way.


End file.
